Helena
by Fyanna3
Summary: The short story of a female assassin in the period before Assassin's Creed Revelations set in Constantinople. Provides perspectives on women's roles in society, women's relationships with their children, and the atrocities of war. Ezio makes a brief, final appearance in conclusion.
1. Chapter 1 - A

Hagia Sophia was worshiped. With her halo of light, she was the most beautiful in all the land. She was the virgin of Constantinople. Who could deny her beauty? God lavished her with his rays, and she thrived in his light as her gold and gems glittered in reverence. She was holy. She was sacred. None could deny her beauty.

But in the fading light of twilight, Hagia Sophia became common. Her halo grew dim, and her gold mosaics became a dull yellow. The awe lost, men laughed at her. She was no better than their whores, and the men passed her by. She was left on the streets as a mere silhouette, and her shadow grew longer as light left the world.

She was left alone and abandoned by her congregation, but for a small boy.

Isaac remained.

* * *

Time frame hints and plot clues for concerned readers (please do not read if you want to interpret this story and uncover its mysteries on your own!):

Look for clues in later chapters for the story's time frame. A new character gives clues to which stage of the Empire is still in power, and the name Constantinople is used for a reason. (It is a long time before Ezio and Ottoman-ruled Istanbul!)

Hagia Sophia is a famous building/monument. Her "halo" is the array of windows that run along the base of the building's main dome. Look up the wikipedia article if you are interested (the pictures are very helpful!).

Also, please remember that stories have figurative meanings embedded.

I hope you enjoy the following chapters!


	2. Chapter 2 - Woman

Hagia Sophia shivered as her marble was lost in the shadows of the night. The grand interior was lost, and the golden mosaics no longer reflected their stories. The arches became imposing rather than welcoming, and the altar seemed distant and forgotten. Only a few candles flickered in the space, but the light could barely pierce the fog of night. Life's warmth was almost lost, until a small hand touched the dead.

Isaac.

The boy was tall, but thin. Hunger deprived his face of youth, and it was ghostly pale and stretched. With little muscle and less fat, the boy's joints creaked like wood; his limbs were that of a puppet, guided by strings to move rigid components. He was more like an old man than a child.

But the boy's hand was warm, and his palm revived one of the pillars. Caressing the marble's curve, Isaac emerged into candlelight, straining his neck back to gaze at the mighty dome. The effort went unrewarded because there was only a whisper of distant moonlight.

"My child," breathed a voice, sending vibrations into the darkness.

Isaac jolted and snapped his head down. Teeth and fists clenching, the boy searched the darkness.

A woman emerged, swathed in deep purple velvet. Golden embroidery hemmed the dress that fell the golden disk around her collar. Inlaid with pearls and all types of gemstones, it shimmered even in the light of the waning candle. Her pale skin only emerged as her soft hands left their long sleeves. The woman approached and leaned her head forward, and clicking echoed in the church as strings of pearls fell from the golden crown resting on her brow.

Isaac stumbled back in amazement. His dirty, thin linen shirt was a far cry from the egg sized emeralds and rose shaped rubies dotting the woman's crown. The luxurious, thick velvet of her dress also put his clothes to shame, but the boy did not have the benefit of other clothing.

"Do not be afraid," the woman whispered as she lowered her body to keep her eyes level with his. The boy stepped back as pearls fell from her face like ripples in the air. His retreat ended abruptly when he slipped and fell hard onto the marble, bruising his left hip.

The woman attempted to smile, but her lips did not quite rise, "I knew Helena."

The boy was silent.

"She was dear to me in another life," the woman whispered, presenting her hand with an open palm. The boy's eyes observed the woman and calculated her face, her jewels, and her velvet. He hesitated, but his calloused hand moved forward and wove its way between her soft fingers. She helped him stand.

"Come." The woman's other hand brushed the boys back as it made its way to clutch his shoulder. Isaac's face remained hard, but his eyes became moist under her affection. He lowered his head to the floor, and the woman slowly guided him back to darkness. In their path a distant candle lit a small passage. The woman drifted beside the boy as they made their way, and the strings of pearls swayed as if the woman were under water and being guided by the waves.

"My name is Theodora, but you will call me Teresa."


	3. Chapter 3 - Was

"Your mother was not loved."

The pearls slipped down the threads of gold onto the woman's shoulder.

"She was raped. Do you understand?"

Isaac could only watch the raining pearls.

"You do not."

White tear drops.

"The beginning, then."

Isaac was lost in blurs as the woman guided him into the stone passage. He imagined the long walk like a game, and suddenly the heavy stone walls became the lush grasses of the Savannah. The flickering candles became gazelles, jumping in and out of sight. He would see them only as they disappeared; antlers glowing as the animals hid among the grasses.

Suddenly, the passage ended. The woman gently pushed the boy through a doorway, and the warm grasses and hot sun of his imagination were lost as he entered a room of adult dreams.

Billowing fabrics draped the walls, and rich jade curtains easily hid the doorways and windows to the outside. Atop the jade were shimmering bullion fabrics that fell from the domed ceiling, creating a golden heaven above Isaac's head. The long, rich textiles reached the floor and made the room sigh in opulence.

Isaac found his body cushioned by a fat, satin sapphire pillow. His pillow was not alone, but one of many sapphire, ruby, and amethyst pillows that sailed under the golden sky. Isaac was suddenly lost in a sea of another world, and his eyelids slipped as his rough and mean life dripped into the down beneath his weary body.

The voice caressed his consciousness.

"Your mother was worshiped. Her hair was so fair that they said it was a halo, a gift from God to his most beautiful creation. She was virginal, and who could deny that beauty?

Helena was divine, because she was a descendant of Helen of Troy.

You know that story, don't you?"

Pearls clicked in the night.

"Rest, child. There is peace here."

Satin wind cradled Isaac to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4 - Lost

Isaac dreamed of his mother.

_The mare rested herself onto the grass in the field. Isaac watched his mother remove her dark brown hood, allowing her blonde hair to tumble onto her shoulders. The boy tried to find his mother's eyes, but they were buried beneath blonde locks._

_She wore leather armor to protect them, but it made her conspicuous on the road. The belts and buckles were meant for a mercenary, and her thin, female frame moved awkwardly underneath the burden of war._

_Isaac was also dressed in cotton and leather, but his body was still too small to fit any sort of practical armor. With only a few layers to protect his flesh from swords, his mother made him stay close. She even refused him a separate pony, forcing him to ride on her mare in the front of the saddle. Isaac treasured this intimate travel, for it was one of the only ways his mother embraced him._

_Besides providing for him, Isaac's mother never touched him. She would only hold him on horseback and on the cold nights of winter. At all other times, she remained on the periphery. Isaac would cry all night for her affection, but was left to weep alone until exhaustion overcame him and put him to sleep._

_Today, she was less guarded. She set the camp and built a fire, pulling out salted beef and cutting it into cubes for the boy's small hands. Isaac gazed at her._

"_Where are we going?" he asked in a mumble._

_His mother glanced over, her brown eyes churning with other thoughts._

"_To a city," she replied, "for supplies."_

"_Will we stay there?" Isaac dared._

"_No."_

Isaac drifted away from the field and found himself surrounded by fabrics. Teresa sat across from him, her body draped across an emerald cushion.

"Are you prepared to hear a story?"


	5. Chapter 5 - While

"Helen was the most beautiful woman in the world. Every man knew of her, and she was renowned throughout the ancient world as a gift from their gods to mankind."

Teresa pondered the last word, her eyes looking to a far off place. Her blue eyes were lost underneath her brown tresses and mighty golden crown.

"Courtiers and commoners alike revered her, and even the princes of distant kingdoms knew her name. She was the most desirable object to be had. And that was all she ever really was: an object."

Teresa caressed the strings of pearls that fell from her mighty burden.

"Women are only the prizes of men, and this was the fate of Helen. She became a trophy for the prince of Troy, and was forced by the pagan goddess of love to move from her homeland into a foreign place. The Greeks said she was stolen, but I say she was forced. If I agree that she was stolen, then I agree that she was not human. I agree that she was a trader's goods."

Jade fabrics danced in an old wind.

"Betrayed by this female goddess, Helen would live the rest of her days as a trophy of men. First, the prince took her. Then, the Greeks fought to win her back. And so, they did steal her back; Helen was returned to her homeland as war bounty. After that, I am not sure what happened to her. I believe she was forever fought over following that war, but I doubt she was ever considered a living thing."

The emeralds and rubies in Teresa's crown glimmered in the candlelight, but the sparkle was subdued as Teresa's lips fell and her eyes became grim.

"Vile men. Vain men. Men fought over Helen for her beauty, her virginity. She was no more than an object of desire and pride that was caged first by Greeks, and then kidnapped by Trojans. The pagan goddess of love created Helen, but would a female actually knowingly create such a beautiful woman in the knowledge that she would be forever savaged by men?"

Teresa abruptly rose from the cushions, her purple velvet swaying and shimmering.

"Men! Cowards!" Her voice became a hiss, "Useless men! Would this empire still exist if its empress did not save it? Tell me how my husband, the mighty Roman Emperor of the East, could have saved this city if I had not intervened? Flee, he said! Told the entire court to run because of the mere inkling of violent resistance! Ha!"

Teresa began to yell.

"Do the colours green and blue dethrone an Emperor? Almost! Coward! I would not let that fool leave his empire to a pack of upset commoners! Abandon the city? Give the people what they want! Ha!"

Teresa paced through the room.

"I saved this city! I stood up to that foolish, drunken mob! Doesn't purple make a fine shroud, dear husband? A leader cannot falter in the face of resistance, and yet the man did. The woman didn't. I saved Constantinople! I saved the Empire! What is left? A fool for an emperor. A fool for a husband. Men!"

Isaac grabbed Teresa's velvet dress. Turning around, Teresa stopped and looked at the small child's hand. Isaac wound around the velvet, and his eyes were wet with tears as he gazed up at her.

"I am a man. Am I also a fool?"

Isaac's thin and starved body shook, his exhausted frame heaving with sobs as his knobbly knees buckled underneath him. He fell to the floor in a small heap, muffling his humiliating emotions in the sleeves of his thin shirt.

"Child," Teresa hushed, her voice becoming quiet and soft as her hands wrapped Isaac in an embrace. Her warmth and affection soothed the child.

"You are not a man. You are a boy."


End file.
